


"Okay, Cupid."

by honeymelon



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Bad Grammer, Comedy, Consent, Cupid!Jean, Dork Jean, Eventual Smut, Excessive Cursing, Fluff, Hipster Jean, Lots of Sarcastic Dialogue, M/M, Magical Shenanigans, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV First Person, Polyamory, Rated for future smut, Supernatural Elements, Witch!Eren, Witch!Marco
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-05-19 20:33:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5980231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeymelon/pseuds/honeymelon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean Kirstein can't even handle being a wingboy in the name of love.<br/>His life is already filled with a magical shit storm. </p><p>So when two conjuring cassanovas decide to mix him with their troil and trouble - What will he do?</p><p>(*edited a bit to make the story easier to read.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Jean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super short prologue.

If anyone came up and asked me what the worst time of the year was, I wouldn't hesitate to say Valentines day.  
With all the stars in the sky, even double the amount would never be enough to express my long accumulated spite towards that stupid holiday.  
And yes, before you ask with pity in your eyes, ‘Poor thing. Is it because you’re single?’  
Firstly, I’d like to say.  
Fuck you. (I’m independent and perfectly okay with stuffing my face with post Valentine’s Day sale. Alone- In peace- While the rest of the world is sucking face.)

And second, why don’t you tell me how you’d feel if you’d had to track down every angst and sap ridden emotional mess in the city of Trost for a whole day? In the end to only replay every chick flick you’ve ever seen during your sister’s movie night.

Jesus, you’d think catering to adults who are stuck in their mid life crisis and coffee induce coma’s would somehow give some sort fulfillment for doing humanity a favor.  
But oh no, I’m a literal wing man for overgrown middle schoolers who can't even make the incentive to even write a damn, ‘Do you like me? Check Yes or No’ note to their potential life partners. Metaphorically speaking, but you get the point.

So by now you’ve probably thinking I’m just the scrooge of love and all things found in the teen section of a bookstore.  
But it’s not even that. It's just- love is exhausting. 

It’s takes so many things to build a fundamental base. Even when many of those virtues may reflect common traits, they are things that are only truly unique to a handful of people.  
And I can’t just snap my fingers and use my powers to set a couple in place without acknowledging what defines them. That, my friend would result in lots of destructive love bubbling over the caldron, and nothing is scarier when that's melded together by cupid’s bow.  
I’m here to give a little push. Okay, a lot of push- to help an individual find the partner(s) whom can help them grow. Someone who can help build upon a base so that it can become into something stronger and better.  
It’s unique, a phenomenon that can never be quite the same each time. So I should probably feel honored to be the witness and creator to such timeless magic.

 

Except.  
I have an intense romantic relations with myself and my pillows.  
And a quota from the higher ups.  
One of those higher ups just happens to be my mom who has the means to send angry natural forces my way if I don’t listen to her.

So. I can really only see Valentine’s Day as the day where I have to work way past my clock-out hour just to be force to work an unpaid overtime.

 

And, oh Lord-  
Zeus-  
Buddha-

If you thought humans were the only thing I am expected to grant a ‘match made in heaven’ to. You'd be dead wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure where this might go. I might continue, I might not.  
> I was just really feeling dorky Jean and craving more Jean/Eren/Marco haha.  
> If I do continue, beware of shitty grammer x1000%.


	2. Stop your witching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare for Jean's nonexistent smooth moves.

You know the only thing cute about pixies are the way they’re depicted in fairy tales.  
And I’m currently starting to figure out that they're certainly no childhood charmers.

“Fuck!” I grunted, swatting the pint sized ball of terror away from my face.  
You make one off handed comment about Peter Pan and then you get plummeted with shit ton of pixie dust and hysterical hissing.  
Jeez, these creature definitely have no sense of humor.  
“Okay- Okay- I’m sorry!” finally managing to get a good foot away from the puffball.  
My ash blonde hair that I spent so much time on this morning disheveled back to it’s bed head couture. My hipster chic just as mussed. I manage to keep the hissing hell behind the palm of my hand for now. Regrouping to wipe some dust off my face.  
“I’m pretty sure if you give me like five seconds, you’re going to be pretty grateful I’m here.” I sighed. My free hand reaching to turn my sling pack so I can zip it open, shuffling a bit until I felt a familiar orb of warmth inside.  
The little busybody was stilling pounding as hard it could on my fist, the tiny drum beats only coming to a halt when my palm opened to reveal the precious being that was gently cradled upon it. A tiny pixie laid sleeping, a much more fragile mirror to it’s starstruck counterpart, snoozing silently.  
I cracked a small smile, slowly coaxing the creature to lower itself along with me to a large smooth rock. “Now, I know you feel a tug in that small heart of yours.” chuckling, as the once provoked pixie, timidly leaned closer to get a better look at, what I’d imagine, it’s equivalent to sleeping beauty.

“Now the thing is, you gotta be extra careful okay?” Laying an old bandanna down on the rock so I could set the sleeping pixie down onto it. “They’ve been traveling a long time just to find you.”

\---

It was about three days ago, I had the weirdest case with some mermaids down near Maria Shore. I had finally managed to pull myself away from whatever slimy orgy that they had cooked up.  
And while I was hoisting myself back on some rocks that were tucked out away in the lagoon; begrudgingly muttering that it wasn’t like I _wanted_ have some freaky fish sex but it would have been nice out plain fucking courtesy to at least ask if I wanted some merman dick. It was then I saw a pair of tiny wings gleaming in the sunlight, iridescent, like it they had been crafted with the threads of twinkling bubbles.

Momentarily admiring the shades of color changing in the sunlight’s rays, I finally noticed that the little creature was a puckered out pixie passed out on the rocks. Now knowing my conscious overpowered my asshole tendencies, I took the little fellow with me, cleaned them up, and used some of my powers to make sure they were tended to.  
It wasn’t until I got my daily ring from my mother later that night, informing her about my day’s adventures that I had been most graciously given a lecture about everything I needed to know about pixies. Eating habits, different types, mating rituals, everything.

It seemed the little one that I took in that day had ventured across oceans just to make it to these shores, all in the name of love, which coincidentally fell right into my category of supervision. Mom, having none but for me to do another side job, ordered me to tracked down their other half.  
So.  
Three failed hiking adventures later and lots of miserable attempts to test what little fitness I had, I finally made it to their mate.

“It’s okay twinkle toes, it’s just fatigue.” I assured when the pixie questioned with a particularity worried chime.  
“I actually think it’s about time that a much needed wake up call is required. Would you like to do the honors?”

The creature chimed again fascinated, at first hesitantly starting to nudge their mate. Repeating till a higher pitch of bells quietly but surely stirred awake. It only took a few jingles back and forth before I caught the glimpse of their blooming love, call it my cupid vision, but sometimes I can see hearts, stars, and sappy shit float around couples if they’re the right match.

I don’t know, something about the aligned moment in space and time and for some reason it’s like I tripping on candied hearts.  
I usually have to blink a few times to make it clear it up. It’s not as cool as it sounds. Just in case you thought it did.

Fantastic, now that I was being completely ignored, my job was finally finished.

“That was like a two second encounter. Am I the best cupid or what.” I hummed smugly to myself, as I stood up. Brushing off the any dirt or leaves that hung to my jeans, knowing that once I felt like I was third-wheeling, that it was me cue to leave.

“Have a good honeymoon.” I said monotonously before I started to hiked back onto the trail, cursing my way through branches and ditches until I set back onto concrete haven, rummaging for my keys as I wearily advance through the parking lot. It was still 6:30 in the damn morning. And I sure as hell knew that it was way too early to even properly function, nevertheless, go hiking. But here I am, with an empty stomach, finished with my ‘hike’, and sporting my ‘I woke up like this’ charm.  
I really need some breakfast. No. I deserve some breakfast.

 

As my black pickup, roused from it’s own nap, I started my route towards Stella’s, a local bakery, known for being the best in this suburban town. I was basically half out of it, mind filled with important things- Things like whether or not I should order a lemon poppyseed muffin or some glazed donuts for my breakfast. Uttermost importance.

 

I could had been categorize as ‘walking dead’ honestly, my debate still lingering in my mind even after I manage to lock up my truck, and walk myself between the little space of my vehicle and door of the bakery. The fresh scent of flour, sugar, and flavorful promises tugging me towards their door. Actually, perhaps, tugging me a little too hard. Because I soon found myself colliding hard with another body. Shit, it honestly felt like I was colliding into a freaking wall.

“Fuckin-” a strong voice hissed. And at that moment I swore I heard something that could only be describe as stars whispering galaxies gently in my ears.

I was most definitely snapped out of one trance and thrown right into another one, too dumbfounded to even hear whatever angry questions were being thrown at me.

Maybe it was the way the morning rays combed through his chocolate locks with soft fingers of amber. Or the way, the cool dewy air contrasted so beautifully against his tan skin that shone with the sun’s love, kissed-no worshipped with it’s warmth.

I shamelessly thought how nice it would feel under my own lips as I let my eyes roam.

I could now see why it hurt so much when I bumped into him, the tight black tee, covered yet definitely did not hide his strong build. Muscles chiseled with hard work and heat hid underneath the dark cloth.

Along with that he was dressed in simple jeans, ones that were stained with dirt here and there from whatever labor he did. And I couldnt help but notice the dizzying smell of flowers and some sort of pine waft in the air around him.

Now I was wondering if I inhaled too much pixie dust from before because I felt like I was caught in some weird spell just staring at this guy. Shit. I wasn’t going to start levitating off the ground was I? Quick Kirstein get it together.

‘Hey asshole.” he growled, obviously ticked off that for the last five minutes I had my head shoved up in the clouds. Fuck, what was he saying before-

“Do you even fucking care that you just spilt a shit ton of scalding coffee on me?” further, arching a brow in annoyance.

Oh. OH. That’s what-  
“Oh fuck- Sorr-” flustered, I tried to stutter out an apology. Trying to make amends for my inability to have a timely response ready a few moments before. 

Though I soon found out that I shouldn't had even bothered because before I could even finish his verbal onslaught slapped me cold.  
“Yeah, okay. Don’t even finish, cause you are literally five minutes too late on that buddy.”

Okay. Kin of the sun be damn. What the fuck.

“E-Excuse me?” I stuttered, taken back. It was quickly coming clear that this hottie seemed to be one of the biggest dicks I've ever came across in Trost. And as much as I love sucking dicks, my temper was not good swallowing them.

“Yeah, how about fucking not. All I really want you to do is to excuse yourself out of my way.” his stupidly attractive face scowled.  
And holy shit, I’ve never wanted to punch somebody’s face in as much as I wanted to punch his.

I didn't even know someone could flip my switch from content to pissed so fast existed.

“Okay. You little shit.” stepping forward so that I chests pressed up together, I silently celebrate that even though it was by an inch or two, I was taller than him.  
“It was an accident. Okay? Don’t have to be such a dickhead about it.” I snapped angrily.  
“No one likes someone who can’t be a decent fucking human being and accept an apology for an obvious mistake.” My body language taking a position of offense. Trying to one up his own outward irritability with my own. 

 

I noticed his faced scrunched into almost disbelief, and it was my turn to watch him falter for a second. He realized that my temper was just as fiery as his. Moments of heated silence followed as we just stood there glaring at each other. Waves of tension hanging in the small space between us.

“Shit, like I said just get out the way asswipe.” he finally spat heatedly. Breaking our strain.  
(Salty? I think so.)  
“It’s way too early for this.”

 

And you know what.  
At least we can both agree on something.

I backed off, standing aside to let him walk by.  
“Sure thing.” I scoffed, almost mockingly. Which ever way was the fastest that I could get a hundred yards between him and I seem like a great idea to me.

For a moment his heated eyes locked with my own as he walked away, and I could only bitterly think that they were probably the prettiest fucking eyes I’ve ever seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As smooth as a rocky road amiright.


	3. A Bubbling Mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, uh, so this update is a thing. LOL.  
> Mostly thanks to the nice comments I got from before- So thank you! (You basically made this happen.) 
> 
> Also, I edited the first two chapters a bit to make the read go a little smoother.   
> My grammar is still probably a lost cause though lol im so sorry.

I’m not too sure how long it took me to simmer down from the coffee spill incident, but the lure of Stella’s soon pacified my bitterness as it’s warmth tugged me in.  
The light bells that hung on the door twinkled as I open it, and hues of cream and white let the pleasant aroma of coffee beans and freshly made delights stand out in all it’s wonderfulness.   
An orange tabby lazed in the morning rays that glowed near the open french styled windows near the front, it’s tail flickering against a mint plant that was in collection with other small sprouts sprinkled around the bakery.   
Fortunately for me I came early enough to beat the morning rush. The two round tables, small in size, were still empty in the small room. The usual regulars that came in for their quick breakfast stop were still probably asleep and I was all the more grateful that I had came before the bustle, unsure if I could handle anymore irritable morning cases.   
“Good morning!” a petite woman greeted, face dusted in freckles and dark locks messily pulled back into a bun. The warmth that linger in the cafe substantially wrapped around her presence and her kind smile was certainly charming as she could probably effortlessly ease all the morning train-wrecks with it.

“Morning Sofia.” I replied politely as I made my way up to the counter, making sure to take a quick glance of what kind of fresh bread that laid behind the glass.   
“Early start?” she asked as I browsed, I could tell she was used to seeing me here when the clock hit around 9. I nodded in response.

“Yeah, had a job that called me out earlier than usual. Decided that since I was up, I might as well stop by here to get a much needed breakfast.”  
Any folks that saw me regularly thought I was a photographer slash journalist, it made a pretty good cover for any time they saw me climbing around in odd places. I made sure to say that my articles and pictures were used for foreign clients. Clients that conveniently didn’t want me to disclose any content, just in case someone got a little too curious.

“I see.” Sofia hummed, already pouring my usual order of coffee into a to-go cup. The town did have a fantastic cafe called the Lounge, they specialized in organic and hand grounded coffee. Super hipster, however super delicious. Yet, something about the simple cup of joe at Stella’s usually brought me here instead. There was only one coffee machine in the whole place and it brewed just plain old coffee beans. Again, nothing too special, but I think the soothing simplicity was what always brought me back to it. It was either that or some kind of spell.

As Sofia continued to make my coffee, adding two sugar cubes and dash of cream. I finally decided the crisis that plagued me for the whole car ride here.  
Lemon poppyseed muffins.  
Why.  
Because the gorgeous guy this morning was sour as fuck.   
And like they always say, make lemons into lemonade.   
Or I guess in my case make lemons into bomb-ass lemon poppyseed muffins. 

 

I ordered two, one for the comfort of my couch and one for the road, because who are we kidding. I don't have enough self control to wait till I get home. 

Sofia happily packed them in a brown paper bag, adding a soft loaf of what looked like marble rye. I arched brow, almost getting a word out to question it but her cheery voice cut in before I could even ask.

“Marco baked a batch too many this morning. Silly thing had too much fun making today’s products. Thought I throw some in because you come here so often.” she chuckled. 

Happy that I was lucky enough to get any complementary treats of any sort, I graciously accept the bag. This was the first time I heard of anyone besides Sofia’s wife, Amalia. “Marco?” I inquired. “A new worker of yours?” I was interested in what kind of talent made it’s way into the tiny bakery.   
Whoever it was, they had to match Sofia’s baking perfect enough for me not to notice.

The petite brunet paused for a moment, blinking her eyes cutely before suddenly bursting out in giggles. “Oh heavens no!” she laughed.   
“Marco is my son. Practically helped my open the bakery and has been working his magic in the kitchen since. He’s about the same age as you- Just hit twenty three this last summer solstice.” 

Oh now that made sen-  
Wait. Son? 

I wasn’t too sure if I was hearing correctly.   
Because my ears heard Sofia say son-  
However all my eyes saw was a small, quiet woman who barely looked like she could be in her twenties.  
I even remember that when I first came into Stella’s for the first time, I didn’t know she was married. And of course I flirted with her because I thought she was a cute college kid with a summer job.  
It wasn’t till I found out that she was actually the owner and also had a wife at that when I respectfully crushed any dreams of taking her out.   
Though, I didn’t have a clue about this new found information. Apparently it wasn’t even new at this point if he had been baking this entire time. When Sofia and Amalia came in with their bakery I thought the couple was a pair of super super young entrepreneurs, hitting success here in this town. 

I must of looked like an idiot, almost sputtering out the coffee that I took a sip of, “S-son?” my eyes comically widen and disbelieving. 

“Wait. Twenty three? I wasn’t even aware you were old to have a son that age!”

Sofia laughed even more at that,   
“You flatter me Jean. I most certainly past my forties ages ago.”   
And oh boy, I wanted to call bullshit so bad.  
Sofia wasn't the type to lie. I knew that.  
But, oh my god this had to be.

I could only stare in disbelief for a solid minute. Honestly what kind of witchcraft was this.   
“Wait, I am having a really hard time processing this.”

“Like really having trouble.”  
This was Jean fucking Kirstein here. Commander of love and fated meetings. A man who has been caught in magic fiascos one too many times. Shit. I once saw a unicorn before. A fucking unicorn.   
And I was having a really hard time believing this. 

 

My brain was getting fried, overheating as I tried to wrap my head around what I had just learned. I was trying to go over it all again but a sudden chuckle sounded over my thoughts,

“I wouldn't blame you. Most people do.”

 

A simple statement, yet it held a sort of spellbound.   
Another pleasant presence entered the room before I knew it.   
I never thought words were so pretty until it soothed against my ears with a lure like his.  
I didn’t even have to look over to know whoever’s voice it belonged to had a warm heart. A warm heart with a strong essence.   
It hummed against the air just right, not too deep, gentle but strong enough to make you listen.  
And when I finally meet his eyes with mine, I knew that today must have been ‘let’s fuck with Jean Kirstien day’. Like really fuck with him.

At this point I had a firm conclusion that the fairy dust really had done a number to my brain.  
What’s with all these heartthrobs walking around Trost early in the morning?  
It wasn’t even statically possible to bump into two back to back.

Holy shit.  
I found the magic hour for beautiful men.   
Honest to god, it’s smidge after 7am, just incase anyone was wondering.  
I was so willing to wake up early if it meant meeting people as beautiful as this.

“Ah, Marco, perfect timing.” Sofia chimed, affection gracing her lips. 

“Jean doesn’t believe me when I say you’re my little boy.”

This ‘Marco’ character chuckled again, and it sent my stomach into flips.  
Little was hardly something that describe Marco. With his mother’s trademark freckles scattered all over his pretty face, the air seem to eagerly shift around his frame with cheer.   
He was much taller than Sofia, her head only reaching up to barley meet his chest. And I took note that I lost in height this time by an inch or two myself.   
Hey, I won once today. That’s all that matters.

Flour tickled his right cheek and dusted his black jeans, a white tank clinging happily on his define body. All these tight shirts needed to be illegal dammit.   
I could tell the strength in his arms, no doubt perfect for kneading dough and…other things.  
I really _really_ wanted to be those other things.  
When my eyes glanced over to his strong labored hands, I was almost positive his fingers probably tasted like sugar.

“Well, I think anyone has a hard time believing you aren't a teenager mum. So I’d cut him a little slack.” he grinned at me, Sofia sighing a bit at that. 

I could only nervously laugh like an idiot in response.  
Words stuck on my tongue.  
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

His eyes kept trailing my own, almost expectantly, “It really goes well with nutella if you have some. Toast it a bit first and it’ll go even better.”   
And it took me a minute to realize that he was talking about the bread he made. Hopeful that I’d enjoy it.   
Again, I could only nod in response to that. I really needed to start speaking. Gotta at least show him I’m capable of that.

“Well.” I awkwardly coughed out.   
“I’ll take your word for it.” my voice said unsteady as I fished out a twenty and set it down on the counter.  
My eyes glancing back and forth from mother to son, trying to figure out what to say.

Marcos’s mom gave her usual smile, taking the money and counting out my change,   
“If you stop back in before 8 anytime again, don’t be shy and tell me what you think.” the taller of the two continued.   
Attractive people- _Nice_ attractive people did not fare well on my ability to speak. I almost wished he was as rude as the hot guy was earlier this morning.   
“I’d love to hear what one of our regulars think.” he added on, giving me a wink.

Oh god. This boy was not for the faint of the heart. I felt my face burn at that, my eyes unable to hold contact with his. I quickly looked away and thanked Sofia for my change, dropping most of it in the tip jar. I had to get out of here, polish up on my smooth moves and maybe come back for round two when my flirting skills were up to their usual par.   
“I, uh, I will.” hugging the paper bag for dear life as his smile lightened up at that. Yup, I really needed to get out before I said something stupid. Or even worse, say nothing at all. Turning away, I quickly made my way to the door, muttering a quiet thanks under my breathe, knowing that the tips of my ear were probably as red as roses.   
I was almost out, almost didn't hear because of the jingle of the bells on the door, but the ‘have a good day’ that left Marco’s lips as I left, gave my stomach another flip for good measure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you ask:  
> Yes, Marco has two moms! Sofia was the one who gave birth to him though. And later on he'll explained how he was conceived.
> 
> And the focus on Marco's smooth smooth voice was definitely implying Jean here is going to have a major dirty talk kink from the baker boy later on. Cause kind gentle Marco saying dirty dirty things in his lovers ears is what I live for.


End file.
